Field Notes From Plant Explorations

Conifer Country released!

2012-05-19T12:37:57Z

Ten years in the making, the book has been released on the world (or at least from Finland to Japan and many places in between in North America). The pre-sale response was amazing and I appreciate everyone who helped support this labor of love by ordering the book. It is currently available in these bookstores with distribution soon reaching Crater Lake National Park as well as the Redwood Parks. I'm working on getting it into the Shasta-Redding area and the Rogue Valley as well.

Backcountry Press is also offering the chance to win a free copy:

Please help me share this information--for the love of plants.

Lastly, if you have the book and would not mind taking the time to leave a review HERE, I would greatly appreciate it.

©Michael Kauffmann

Big Lagoon Bog Blog

2012-04-21T15:04:29Z

Big Lagoon Bog Blog

Sphagnum hummocks and carnivorous plants in coastal Humboldt County? To celebrate the arrival of the proof, and to get out and see a few plants for the afternoon, John Sawyer and I went for a drive. I wanted to see club moss (Lycopodium sp.) so John suggested we go to Big Lagoon County Park. In a beautiful ocean-side ravine, surrounded by a thick forest of Sitka spruce, we found a plant world rarely seen this far south--a world that is only weeks away from what must surely be an amazing annual bloom. The marsh violet (Viola palustra) was just beginning to flower but other inimitable species were on the edge of bursting to bloom. See Dr. J.P. Smith's plant list for the park here, visit soon, and tread lightly on this rare landscape.

Round-leaf sundew (Drosera rotundifolia) growing on Sphagnum papillosum (?).

On the nutrient-poor sphagnum hummocks, a sundew entices nutrient-rich insects--with its bright red tentacles and sugary-sweet mucilage--to their untimely end. Once trapped, they slowly digest the insects with enzymes that extract nitrates and other nutrients.

©Michael Kauffmann

Conifer Rarity in Southern California

2012-03-17T18:56:55Z

Work occasioned a trip to southern California which, of course, also required me to spend some time with a few regionally endemic conifers. I had never visited the Torrey pine or Cuyamaca cypress, so in planning the trip to Palm Springs for a conference, Allison and I took a few extra days--looping south toward the Mexican border--to see North America's rarest pine and cypress.

Torry Pine (Pinus torreyana)

Rarity is a new endeavor for the Torrey pine. Though it is the current record-holder for "rarest North American pine" it has not always been that way. It is an ancient pine, whose lineage (or at least that of a near ancestor) extends back as far as the Oligocene or Miocene with a range that extended as far north as Oregon (Kral 1993). In the Pleistocene, the species probably ranged throughout the coastal basins of Southern California but became restricted to coastal San Diego County and Santa Rosa Island over the last 12,000 years or so, during Holocene warming (Waters and Schaal 1991). Its closest extant relative is probably the Coulter pine (Pinus coulteri).

Charismatic specimens are sculpted by the pervasive wind, fed by moist coastal fog, and nourished by the sandstone on which they root.

Torrey Pines State Reserve protects the last remaining coastal pine forest in southern California.

Seed cones are as long as they are wide (averaging 4"x4") and have scales with exceptionally thick tips.

Due to wind, branch-buttressing creates exceptional bulbous arching--with the girth of these
upper regions surpassing that of both the main trunk and of my beautiful pregnant wife.

Greyish-green with 5-needles per bundle.

In the early 1900's Guy Fleming and Ellen Browning Scripps helped protect this unique pine forest from development.

Cuyamaca cypress (Cupressus stephensonii)

The rarest cypresses in North America is found in only in the headwaters of King Creek, on the southwest slopes of Cuyamaca Peak in San Diego County. Some consider it a subspecies of the Arizona cypress (Cupressus arizonica).

Chaparral and cypresses rejuvenated--nine years after the Cedar Fire of 2003.

Mature bark is thin, cherry-red, smooth, and exfoliating.

Coulter pine (Pinus coulteri) and Cuyamaca cypress return in the fire-prone chaparral.

Though suffering 70% mortality with the Ceder Fire of 2003, in March 2012 the remaining trees were locally abundant and covered in a cone crop reflecting several (consecutive?) cone-masting years.

Citations:

Kral, R. 1993. Flora of North America Editorial Committee (eds.): Flora of North America North of Mexico, Vol. 2. Oxford University Press.
Waters, E.R. and B.A. Schaal 1991. No variation is detected in the chloroplast genome of Pinus torreyana. Canadian Journal of Forest Research 21: 1832-1835.

Special thanks to Christopher Earle and his website, the Gymnosperm Database. Conifer information is always accessible thanks to his hard work.

©Michael Kauffmann

Gray Wolf Enters California

2011-12-30T14:30:56Z

Field Notes from Plant Explorations has never relayed news; but I think this news is more than blog-worthy for many reasons. The first is that this is an uplifting story about the wild in nature being wild. This wolf has traveled hundreds of miles from his 'homeland' crossing roads, ranches, wilderness and now political borders--and he has done it alone. More importantly, because of the breadth of urban and rural sprawl, people are playing a role in allowing this adventurous soul room to roam. We as a culture are, on a level I don't think we yet understand, developing new found compassion for the previously demonized big-bad-wolf. I think we are learning that wild is important and if we can share 'our' world--without some hollywoodized fear of being eaten--then the world might be a better place. Finally, I think this wakens the primordial howl deep in our souls. Human and dog have evolved together--from wolf origins--for over ten thousand years. Some time ago our ancestors sat around an idealized campfire munching on caribou meat sharing some of the scraps with those at the edge of the fire's glow, whose luminous tapetum lucidum suggested a longing for companionship. While this should ultimately not be about us in some way it needs to be for OR7, and others, to be allowed to wander again.

A primordial relationship has returned to the Klamath Mountains. I can only dream OR7 will be joined by a few friends, howl with joy at the vast wilderness, and dance with the elk for a long time to come. May this visit be more than fleeting...

A gray wolf (not OR7) Photo by John and Karen Hollingsworth-USFWS.

Read more from the DFG news blog
OR7's path through 1/11/2012

©Michael Kauffmann

Hotel, motel, whatcha ya gonna do today? (Say what!)

2011-12-25T15:27:05Z

Why, climb Mount Hilton in the Trinity Alps of course.

As I approached the trailhead the car's outdoor thermometer read 28^oF and, with the windows down, the iPod shuffled Rapper's Delight for my auditory indulgence. I pulled into the large parking lot at Canyon Creek as the lone (semi-domesticated) representative of the human race. Donning hat and gloves, I hoisted my pack and climbed toward what I hoped would be a world-class penthouse suite. With Sugar Hill Gang resonating in my head--as other drift-less tunes have on previous trips--the lyrics seemed preposterously apropos as I progressed toward the named summit (hotel, motel, Mount Hilton...). What five-star resort could possibly compare to a perch on glacially polished granite--surrounded by sky, stars, and wilderness--with a forecast of continued high pressure and a hard freeze? None in my mind.

A five-star morning sunrise high in the Trinity Alps Wilderness.

Upon leaving the house at 5 a.m. it was 46^oF at 750'. Fifteen minutes later I passed through Arcata and the thermometer read 28^oF at sea level--a -18^oF swing while DROPPING in elevation. For the length of the ride to Junction City along the Trinity River Canyon the thermometer hovered around 30^oF. As I walked up the Canyon Creek toward Mount Hilton the air remained cool until the first falls where, rounding the corner into the big-shouldered glacially-carved granitic canyon, snow became prevalent and the air dipped below freezing again. But after that, things began to change. The more I climbed, eventually out of the canyon and into the high country, the warmer it became. Until ultimately, when I arrived at Boulder Creek Lakes basin, I was clad in a t-shirt and shorts while resting in the low winter sun absorbing the warmth of the slick granite like a cold-blooded tetrapod. High country heaven!

Impressive western white pines are still doing well in the mid-elevation forests of the Trinty Alps Wilderness.

As sun gave way to stars via fuchsia-cast-granitic-parapets I was not yet adorning all my luggaged clothing. Where were the frigid temperatures I had thoughtfully prepared for? As it turned out it never again dropped below freezing--even while camped at 7,500'. Winter high pressure systems (at least this one we are experiencing) apparently have the power enact counter-intuitive climatic gradients where the coldest and densest air falls into the low elevation canyons pushing the humid (and warmer) air upward forming a barometrical blanket, insulating the high country. The normal rule of thumb while climbing into the mountains is with 1,000' gain in elevation one can expect -3^oF change in temperature. If this were true on this trip the night temperature difference from trailhead to lakes (+3,500') would be -10.5^oF, it should have been around 20^oF at my camp assuming the trailhead was again near freezing at night. It was nearly the exact opposite--at least +10^oF warmer at 7,500', where I estimated night temperatures hovered around 38^oF.

Camped on the glacially polished granite in the Boulder Creek Lake basin.

As much as we try to predict and explain our world, elements of surprise inevitably provide refreshing novelty. There should always be another question to answer--challenging deeper understandings and more authentic experiences. Especially if we challenge ourselves to step outside, look within, and nurture an impassioned sense of place.

Brewer spruce and cones.

Sunrise alpinglow on Mount Hilton.

Climbing into the snow covered mountain hemlock-Shasta fir forest.

Sawtooth Mountain.

An impressive granite-spire wall on the flanks of Mount Hilton.

The snow-covered boulders hid desolate pit-traps with the potential for ice-man-like entombment. But, alas, this was not my time for cryogenic experimentation--though the snowy boulders did halt my northward passage.

As I continued upward, prudence prevailed as slick ice-covered snow stopped me ~400 ft from the 8964 ft summit--not bad for late December without an ice-ax and crampons.

More to Explore?
Check out the write up for Canyon Creek from Conifer Country

Need another cone fix? Here an article I was consulted for in the Redding Record Searchlight (12.24.2011) about conifers and cones in northern California

©Michael Kauffmann

High Pressure in the Siskiyou Wilderness

2011-12-16T15:18:29Z

The winds were blowing across southern California and the skies were clear in the north. This unseasonal weather, cultivated by a high pressure system sitting over most of the West coast, motivated a 24 hour whirlwind into the Siskiyou Wilderness. My goal was to search for an unusual population of Alaska yellow-cedar documented and collected by Overton and Butler in 1979. I had discredited this report for several years because it did not fit within the parameters of my expectations for the species' regional ecological amplitude--reported at a mere 3115 feet. If true, this would be over 2000 feet lower than any other regional population. In the fall I made it to the HSU Herbarium to look at the specimen and, sure enough, it was properly identified by the duo. I had to find this unusual place. The high pressure was the excuse to escape the stress of the end of 2011, get into the mountains, and attempt to find another outlier in the Siskiyou Wilderness.

The route began along the South Fork of the Smith River in a grove of massive Port Orford-cedars and Douglas-firs--pictured here with the largest Port Orford-cedar I have seen in California.

Impressive Douglas-firs abound along the South Fork of the Smith River

After walking along the Smith River on the South Kelsey Trail, the Summit Valley Trail climbs to the high country. Here I got a view to the Siskiyou Crest, through a multitude of conifers, with the Smith River far below.

Another mystery in the Smith River Country are the lodgepole pines inhabiting the mid-elevations. The cones are somewhere between the beach pine (ssp. contorta) and the Sierra lodgepole (ssp. murrayana) characterized by thicker scales and shorter, reflexed cones. There are several hypotheses as to why they grow as they do but most likely this serotinous nature is due to a frequent fire return interval.

Western white pine bark.

Del Norte manzanita (Arctostaphylos delnortensis) is already starting to flower in mid-December.

Somewhere below the Summit trail, about 3 miles from the Kelsey trail, a population of Alaska-cedar persists at 3100 feet. The survival here is due to the proximity to the Pacific Ocean which nurtures a cool and wet microsite. I did not find these trees this trip, but will be back to take a cross-country route and look again.

X marks the sport of where the reported Alaska-cedar reside.

I was treated to an amazing sunset on the return drive to Humboldt Bay.

©Michael Kauffmann

Miracle Mile | Russian Wilderness

2011-08-31T01:43:47Z

In the late 1960's, after arriving at Humboldt State University as a new professor, John O. Sawyer received a letter in the mail from G. Ledyard Stebbins. Stebbins, widely regarded as one of America's leading evolutionary biologists but also a lover of rare plants, suggested to John that he needed to visit a remote place in the Klamath Mountains known as Blake's Fork. Here, he said, John might help verify a report for one of California's rarest conifers--the Engelmann spruce. Stebbins hoped John could record his findings in a new database called the Inventory of Rare and Endangered Vascular Plants of California organized by the California Native Plant Society. With conifers calling, John and his friend and co-worker Dale Thornburgh went on a journey that would change our understanding of conifer distributions, plant associations, and wilderness in California.

The heart of the Russian Wilderness and the Miracle Mile, with Russian Peak to the far left. This spiney ridge separates Sugar Creek (left) from Duck Creek (right).

Upon a successful trip to Blake's Fork, John and Dale had become enchanted with the Salmon Mountains. They wanted to see more and went about planning for it by referencing botanical databases. They found that Engelmann spruce had also been documented along Sugar Creek, just over the Salmon Crest from Blake's Fork. In the summer of 1970 they walked up Sugar Creek and documented plants along the way, eventually finding themselves climbing up the south-facing ridge above Sugar Lake (where they saw foxtail pines) and into the Little Duck Lake Basin. While at the south end of the lake Dale properly identified the first subalpine fir in California (though it took him half and hour to convince John!). Around the campfire maps came out and lists were made. They determined that in a roughly drawn square mile--encompassing the ridges and valleys around Little Duck Lake--there were 17 species of conifers. The 'Miracle Mile' was born. The drainage around Russian Peak hold one of the richest conifer assemblages on Earth^*.

*An undocumented report of 17 conifers in a square mile around Crystal Peak in Mount Rainier National Park has recently been made

John Sawyer stands in an enriched montane conifer forest along Sugar Creek. Here we counted 10 conifers. Eleven conifers species in one place have been documented in the upper reaches of nearby Horse Range Creek⁶.

In the coming years John and Dale were funded by the Forest Service to survey for plants in many of the drainage along the Salmon Crest above the Scott Valley. Ultimately, with the help of graduate students, they documented over 400 species of vascular plants in Sugar Creek alone⁵. This extensive research led to a unique understanding for these forests. Clearly the area needed a level of preservation beyond that of just National Forest. In the following years, through their dedication to this goal, the region was well preserved. A few affects of their research include:

Designation status of Roadless Area Review and Evaluation (RARE 1 and 2) after the signing of the 1964 Wilderness act. This ensured the area remained on the radar for future wilderness designation even though it was not included in the original act.
Designation as the Russian Wilderness in 1984. John was consulted throughout the process by Representatives from northwest California while they sorted through the bureaucratic motions. Ultimately the deal went down when a land swap was negotiated wherein higher elevation less productive forest was traded for lower elevation more productive forest (probably full of giant sugar pines). Though the Forest Service had originally proposed to build a road and drive-in campground a Little Duck Lake, the Russian Wilderness was preserved.
Designation of Sugar Creek Research Natural Area.
Designation of the Duck Lake Botanical Area.

Duck Lake Basin as seen from the west-east ridge between Duck and Sugar creeks.

18th Conifer in the Miracle Mile?

This summer John heard another conifer had been found in the Miracle Mile. I thought it must be knobcone pines (Pinus attenuata) but the report was for western junipers (Juniperus occidentalis) on the south-facing slopes above Sugar Creek. Could he and Dale have missed a conifer? With the need to know we returned to search and document this past weekend. After spending several hours beating up the south-facing hillside through montane chaparral (and cutting my legs numerous times on Arctostaphylus patula) I found no evidence of western junipers, though it appeared to be ideal habitat. Western junipers grow just east of Sugar Creek in the Scott Valley, so it is quite possible seeds could have been dispersed here by a bird (maybe a Townsend's solitaire?). Could it be I missed them because of the route I chose up the steep slope? Surely this is but one reason to adventure again in Conifer Country.

The only junipers we found were several common juniper (Juniperus communis) seen here in the bottom left of the picture, high above Sugar Creek.

John and an impressive sugar pine (Pinus lambertiana) along Sugar Creek.

A list of conifers within the Miracle Mile:

foxtail pine
whitebark pine
western white pine
Jeffrey pine
ponderosa pine
lodgepole pine
sugar pine
white fir
Shasta fir
subalpine fir
Engelmann spruce
Brewer spruce
mountain hemlock
Douglas-fir
Pacific yew
incense-cedar
common juniper
~~western juniper~~? undocumented but reported...

More to Explore

Keeler-Wolf, T. 1984. Vegetation map of the upper Sugar Creek drainage, Siskiyou County, California. Unpublished report on file, Pacific Southwest Research Station, Albany, Calif.
Sawyer, J. O.; Thornburgh, D. A. 1969. Ecological reconnaissance of relict conifers of the Klamath region. Report to Pacific Southwest Forest and Range Experiment Station, Berkeley, California. PSW COOP-AID Grant #7. Unpublished report on file, Pacific Southwest Research Station, Albany, Calif.
Sawyer, J. O.; Thornburgh, D. A. 1970. The ecology of relict conifers in the Klamath region, California. Report to Pacific Southwest Forest and Range Experiment Station, Berkeley, California. PSW COOP-AID Grant #9. Unpublished report on file, Pacific Southwest Research Station, Albany, Calif.
Sawyer, J. O.; Thornburgh, D. A. 1971. Vegetation types on granodiorite in the Klamath Mountains, California. Report to the Pacific Southwest Forest and Range Experiment Station, Berkeley, California. PSW COOP-AID agreement supplement #10. Unpublished report on file, Pacific Southwest Research Station, Albany, Calif.
Sawyer, J.O. 2006 Northwest California. University of California Press. Berkeley, Ca.
Eds. Barbour M.G., T. Keeler-Wolf, and A.A. Schoenherr. 2007. Terrestrial Vegetation of California, 3rd edition. University of California Press, Berkeley.

©Michael Kauffmann

Larix Lyallii | Derivations on a survival regime

2011-08-10T15:38:18Z

Conifers possess highly derived adaptations that allow them to flourish on continental land masses north and south of the 45th parallel—to the arctic tree line. They also grow in similar regions with decreasing latitude, like the various cordilleras of western North America. Though they comprise less than 1% of all plant species (~630), they define 30% of the forests on Earth. In order to survive in colder climates conifers must be able to handle temperature and moisture extremes. As a cat preens its fur, most conifers care for their needles. These waxy progeny are coddled when energy is diverted from other tree functions to maintain needles—often for many years. This heavy investment must allow needles to endure both high and low temperatures while at the same time regulating water loss during the warmer months. Also, because most conifers are evergreen, they are not inhibited by late spring or even summer frosts which might otherwise kill the leaves of a less cold-adapted species. Angiosperms--many of which are deciduous--generally inhabit lower elevations and warmer regions where they spend less time and energy in leaf production and maintenance and can therefore allocate resources to grow faster and pioneer oft-disturbed landscapes more rapidly. It it these two generalized survival regimes that had me confused on a recent backpack into the Pasayten Wilderness where there is a conifer that has blazed a unique path for survival on the edge of the Washington State alpine tundra.

The alpine tundra of the Pasayten Wilderness is characterized by small hummocks decorated with diminutive heaths and grasses with the much taller conifers surviving on only the fringes of this landscape.

Subalpine larch (Larix lyallii) has a range restricted to the North Cascades and Northern Rockies where they are locally common on exposed rocky areas as well as pioneers on disturbed sites and more recently in snowfields. They do not compete well with nearby conifer associates because they are shade intolerant. For this reason, over time they have been chased upward in an attempt to stay away from other cold loving conifers of the region like Engelmann spruce (Picea engelmannii) and subalpine fir (Abies lasiocarpa). Life on the edge of the alpine tundra includes a deciduous disposition, which appears to be the antithesis of the cold-loving-conifer survival strategy. It was mysterious to me that this tree would evolve deciduous leaves in subalpine conditions. Few other plants here are deciduous and those that are are about 3 inches tall. During our week-long trek we spent 4 days at high elevations--giving me ample time to ponder this unique species.

What follows are my interpretations--anthropocentric and otherwise--as to why this survival regime is effective.

Subalpine larch on the edge of the alpine tundra.

1. Deciduous leaves

At any given place on the tree, the subalpine larch allocates needles--how long or how many--to optimize the energy balance based on availability of resources.

The thin needles must not require much energy to make but are surely efficient and feisty photosynthesizers during their short (<4 month) life.

If resources begin to run low, the tree can shut down needles for the season. This senescence allows resources, like water, to be conserved by limiting loss to transpiration. Resources are therefore sent to other regions to maximize net photosynthesis.

2. Time needle growth and pioneer disturbed sites

Notice the larches in the background are fully leafed out. The larches in the foreground are still in a snow drift and have just begun to leaf out. Though their growing season will be shorter these trees are able to pioneer snowfields in the mountains as they begin to grow with snow melt.

Rocky north-facing slopes are the habitat of choice for the subalpine larch.

Subalpine larch is also moving upslope (along with whitebark pine and Englemann spruce) onto the alpine tundra as the climate warms and snow melts faster--lengthening the growing season. Young trees also have specialized leaves that survive through one winter and a second summer²--possibly a neotenic trait carried from an ancient pine ancestor?

3. Winter snow will rarely weigh down and break branches

Because these conifers are deciduous they do not have to maintain the typical model conforming growth form other evergreen subalpine conifers do (see Massart's Model below). This "Christmas tree" form is common at high elevations because it is effective in sloughing heavy snow and limiting branch breakage as snow accumulates on needles. Subalpine larch have no needles in winter so I can only assume snow will collect in limited amounts--generally not enough to break branches. This is also an effective strategy during the growing season for a shade intolerant species. As seen in Ruah's model below, the larch is able to maintain a growth form more typical of a temperate oak or even a tropical species while in the subalpine--spreading and splaying branches to maximize net photosynthesis for this shade intolerant species.

Evergreens at high elevation begin life using a predictable growth form defined by Massart while temperate deciduous trees use the form defined by Ruah. Follow this link and click the first result to read more.

Another example of the freedom enjoyed by the larch (center) to grow as it pleases, leaning at a rakish angle out over a slope, and hence maximize photosynthesis. This tree has grown out and around the spruce and hence receives direct sunlight from sunrise to sunset (I watched this tree all day and without this growth form would have missed direct light for about the first 2 hours each day--being blocked by the spruce. An evergreen conifer at high elevation would risk toppling in winter at an angle like this.

4. Reiterations in response to damage

If a tree is damaged by snow or wind they respond with reiterated trunks as seen in this image--taken at treeline. This is a response one might expect in temperate regions, but not in the subalpine. Again, this is effective because subalpine larch do not have needles in the winter and do not risk branch breakage because of snow accumulation. (see Tomlinson image above)

5. Epicormic sprouting

Epicormic sprouting occurs from dormant buds embedded at the base of branches and allows new branches, and ultimately leaves, to be produced quickly after injury or theoretically in a year with abundant water.

More thoughts on the deciduous disposition from Northwest Trees¹

Since leaves are not exposed to desiccating wind and cold in the winter, like evergreen conifers, the moisture in needles does not have to be replaced by water in the soil--which often remains frozen and inaccessible into late spring for many other conifers.
Buds on the larch protect shoots in a tough woody layer and these are not vulnerable to winter damage like evergreen conifer needles.

Jay Smith, Carl Arnatt and I will surely do some plant explorations again next summer...

References
1. Arno, Stephen., Hammerly, Ramona. 2010. Northwest Trees. Mountaineers Books, Seattle, Washington.
2. Tomlinson, P.B. 1983. Tree Architecture. American Scientist. 71:141-149

©Michael Kauffmann

Mount Saint Helens | Goat Marsh RNA

2011-07-23T13:57:35Z

As Allison and I began to map our route through the Cascades for our summer vacation I proposed that we visit Mount Saint Helens. Allison quickly agreed but jokingly asked what conifers were there that I wanted to see--I relented that I wanted to familiarize myself with noble fir (Abies procera) outside of California and this was a place recommended by Chris Earle on his epic website. What we found in the Goat Marsh Research Natural Area was a juxtaposed landscape shaped by geological forces. We ambled through some of the most depauperate and some of the most productive forests we had ever seen. The resulting plants fostered in certain locations were there based solely on the substrate. The forests on the flows of ash, mud, and rock placed here by Mount Saint Helens allowed only the heartiest plants to survive. Other forests, hidden around the edge of protective mountains and out of reach from the mud and rock flows, grew on soils which had remained undisturbed and were thus less porous with higher nutrient contents--ultimately yielding some of the grandest forests on Earth.

The Goat Marsh Research Natural Area was identified for its mountain wetland communities, xeric lodgepole pine forests, and noble fir forests associated with an active Cascade volcano.

Allison humored me with a picture next to the trees--but all she could think about was getting down on her knees to photograph the amazing understory in bloom.

The natural area includes some of the finest examples of Abies procera forests. Here, stem biomass and basal area exceeds that of all other forests in the world with the exception of those in our back yard--the redwood groves of the North Coast¹.

Standing on the pyroclastic flows on the south slope of Mount Saint Helens.

Life on the edge: the forest on the left has slowly died since it was buried in a pyroclastic flow in 1980.

Depauperate lodgepole (Pinus contorta) pine forest occupying the more ancient pyroclastic flows reflect the inhospitable nature of the substrante on which they grow. Diversity increases as depth of substrate and moisture availability increase¹. Other specimens that eke out an existence here include western hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla), noble fir (Abies procera), western white pine (Pinus monticola), and Kinnikinnick (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi). These stands reminded us of home as well.

References
1. Franklin, Jerry. Wilberg, Curt. 1979. Goat Marsh Research Natural Area.
(check out this document to see the pre-eruption pictures that are included, this alone is worth your time.)

Other resources:
-U.S. Forest Service website for the Goat Marsh Research Natural Area

©Michael Kauffmann

Ecological Amplitude: A story of climax

2011-07-15T16:38:37Z

Box Camp Mountain | Marble Mountain Wilderness

Ecological amplitude is the range of habitats, often dependent on and defined by elevation, within which a certain species has the ability to survive. In the Klamath Mountains there are two species of pines that define the highest elevations--growing at or near the summits of peaks from ~7500' to 9000' (The Klamath Mountains get no higher). Foxtail pine (Pinus balfouriana) and whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis) inhabit our sky islands where they are the crowning jewels of this coniferous wonderland.

Jeffrey Kane ponders the approach to Box Camp Mountain from the Pacific Crest Trail.

Box Camp Mountain is interesting for several reasons. The first is that its summit is only 7,267' yet both species of said pines live in this fringe habitat. This is generally on south-facing slopes where lack of competition from firs and hemlocks (which thrive on north-facing slopes) is minimal. When approaching the summit I began to doubt the reports of these pines being here; but in the last few hundred feet they began to appear. Throughout Holocene warming, these two species (and others) have slowly been retreating up regional mountains. Now, after thousands of years, they have reached their ecological climax on Box Camp--there is no more up on which to grow. This mountain holds the most formidably presumptive story I have attempted to read in a high elevation Klamath landscape--and what I read does not appears to have a happy ending.

Where are the Klamath Sky Islands? Look at the ranges of these pines to see.

Foxtail Pine (Pinus balfouriana)

Growing on the uppermost ridgelines as well as along southeast slopes, I estimated the population to be ~200 trees on Box Camp. Trees are of various age classes and recruitment appears suffice. Overall the population appeared to be doing well. The striking issue was the trees killed by bark beetles--about 15 in all. This concentrated mortality is rare in the foxtail populations across the Klamath Mountains--clearly this issue is worth watching into the future.

Windswept foxtail pines dot the ridge of Box Camp Mountain.

Trees whose death was accelerated by a mountain pine beetle (Dendroctonus ponderosae) infestation.

Jeffrey points out out the MPB galleries on a dead foxtail pine.

Natural and anthropogenic threats to California’s endemic foxtail pine

whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis)

Small population in fringe habitat = ecological outlier.

There are fewer than 40 living trees on Box Camp--almost exclusively on the south and southwest slopes. The population has historically been larger as seen by the skeletons that remain of the once living--we estimated the mortality at 50%. This means that even at the turn of the century, before rapid climate change, there were only ~100 trees in this location. As you will see in the pictures that follow, many of the dead trees appear to have died long ago (<50 years) while others have died recently. The recent deaths are identified by the remaining fine branch tips as well as bark on branches and trunks. We believe that all the dead trees were put 'over the edge' by bark beetles but they were already stressed. My hypothesis is that due to the exposed nature of the south-facing forest edge where they grew (and some still grow), they suffered from early season water loss enhanced by climatic change--ultimately the habitat is drying out earlier and earlier each year. As net photosynthesis decreased with water loss the trees fell out of balance, bark beetles moved in, and life was lost.

Skeleton forest of whitebark pine.

Investigating a recently deceased whitebark pine.

Beetle galleries.

We will be back to read the story again.

Want to read more? Here is a paper I wrote with regards to climate change and the high elevation pines of the Klamath Mountains.

©Michael Kauffmann

Red Buttes Wilderness | Recognizing Wild

2011-07-13T17:30:43Z

Our adventure began in the heavy rain of late June. We waved farewell to Allison from the Canyon Creek Trailhead to walk the Bigfoot Trail--in search of wild plants and places--for two weeks. As we climbed into the Trinity Alps it was doubtful we would be able to hike very far because of heavy snow and high water. On our second day, as the rain cleared, we approached the dangerously swift Stuarts Fork and were, for a moment, stopped by Mountains and Water.

Wet weather, heavy snow at the passes, and swift creek crossing typified the first week of hiking through the Trinity Alps, Russian Wilderness, and Marble Mountains. Bottom left is the crossing of Stuarts Fork in the Alps--without that log, the trip would not have happened.

Luck was on our side. Eventually, the search for a crossing led us to a freshly downed Douglas-fir across the width of the raging creek. My brave hiking partner Jeffrey Kane tested the bridge without his pack and determined it was a go. As he walked across I followed with a crawl but regardless of form we were on the other side and the adventure could continue. High creek crossings and winter snow at the passes continued as we slowly walked sections 8-13 without further incident. After a week of summer weather with winter conditions we met our friend Radek at Seiad Valley and entered the Red Buttes Wilderness.

Into the Red Buttes Wilderness

Mount Shasta looms as Jeffrey Kane parts blooms of bear grass (Xerophyllum tenax) along the Boundary Trail in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

We had been seeing wildflowers and other signs of spring along the route to this point but the climb on the PCT along Devil's Backbone into the high country of the Buttes offered the epic blooms and snow-free walking we had been dreaming about--summer was finally here! What follows is a photo-blog of some of the interesting observations we made in the Red Buttes--some inspired by the beauty of life others by the vectors of death. The forests of the dynamic Klamath Mountain region hold unparalleled beauty but are showing signs of a sickness facilitated by rapid climatic change. I am watching but can I help?

The Bigfoot Trail might appropriately be renamed The Cliff Maid (Lewisia cotyledon) Trail--they were on seemingly every rocky outcrop over the 150 miles we walked.

Serpentine walking with big views were the norm through the Buttes.

Alaska yellow-cedar | Cupressus nootkatensis

This tree is quickly becoming one of my favorite conifers in the region. Regionally, it is not very well understood nor easy to identify and can thus be easily confused with Port Orford-cedar (Chamaecyparis lawsoniana) and/or Siskiyou cypress (Cupressus bakeri). Because of its rarity the species has regularly been misidentified or overlooked. According to my data, there are now 9 distinct regional populations in California (see map below). It is most common around Preston Peak. Of those 9 populations I have personally documented 3--this is a 50% increase since 2006 when I first found a new population. Surely there are more out there. I also included a map below where more populations might be found in the Red Buttes. I also believe there are more to be found in the Siskiyou Wilderness.

As we peered over the cliff face into the drainage below the yellow, weepy foliage caught my eye. I climbed down to find a small relict population of Alaska yellow-cedar thriving on the edge of serpentine in a cold and wet (for most of the year) pocket. I estimate the population to be less than 50 trees. This was a cone masting year and all trees that I saw appeared healthy. I hope to continue to monitor this population as it is an outlier in habitat from other Klamath populations--regionally this species is (and have been for millennia) harbingers for climate change.

Alaska yellow-cedar (Cupressus nootkatensis).

Kangaroo population in RED--undocumented until 7/2011

Jeff and Radek look north into the Applegate River headwaters. Just below their feet is where I spotted the undocumented population of Alaska yellow-cedar.

Blue dots show discovered populations--the red region is where I would like to look for more.

Observation on CalFlora

western white pine | Pinus monticola

On specific sites across the western Klamath this species is dying fast. I have watched individuals become skeletons from one summer to the next. It is a complex and depressing issue. What follows is a discussion of the variety of factors that are leading to the decline of western white pine--particularly on serpentine substrates. Serpentine is already a fringe habitat for many species--but a habitat on which P. monticola has historically thrived. As climate warms and water disappears earlier in the season, more stress is placed on individuals allowing more and more factors to affect health. Western white pines are harbingers for forest health in these serpentine regions.

Skeletons of western white pine in the Lonesome Lake Basin in the Red Buttes. Virtually all dead trees are western white pine and I estimate mortality in the basin at 75%.

(LEFT) Witches brooming caused by western white pine dwarf mistletoe (Arceuthobium monticola) weakened the tree which allowed mountain pine beetles to ultimately kill it last summer. (RIGHT) Top die-back and brooming indicate this WWP is not long for this world.

Western white pine dwarf mistletoe (Arceuthobium monticola) is endemic to the Klamath Mountains and has co-evolved with P. monticola for millennia. However, as the climate warms, fringe habitat on serpentine (which is already a porous substrate) becomes difficult for specialists like the white pine to survive upon. Mistletoe infestations + pine beetles + white pine blister rust + warming climate = species decline (extinction?).

Characteristic gallery of the mountain pine beetle (Dendroctonus ponderosae). We pulled this bark from a recently deceased western white pine--weakened by mistletoe, killed by bark beetles.

Though less evident--at least this time of year--white pine blister rust (Cronartium ribicola) was making its presence known on several trees we saw on the journey. The 'cigarette scars' are caused by the fungus growing into the branches and causing swelling, the tree responds with resin. All this takes energy (sugars) which sends the tree into decline.

Learn more about forest pathology in the Klamath Region

*Thanks to Jeffrey Kane to all he taught me about these forest pathology issues.

Fire regime

I'll touch on fire regime briefly and leave you to ponder your next hike.

Fire is shifting forest dynamics across the West--particularly in the southwest where sky island forests are in dramatic decline because of frequent high intensity burns caused by a warming climate. Because of the temperate nature of the Klamath Mountains, forests have a better chance at recovery after a high intensity burn--at least that is what my novice, optimistic mind would like to believe. One burn we walked through--while on the Devil's Backbone along the Pacific Crest Trail--was estimated by my Doctoral-Candidate-Fire-Expert-Friend to be about 25 years old. What we saw was high knobcone pine ( Pinus attenuata) regeneration on south-slopes. We also witnessed forest pockets on north-facing slopes unaffected by the quarter century old burn--essentially seed-banks for future forest regeneration.

A view westward along the crest of the Red Buttes through old fire scars.

What was most remarkable to me was the recruitment of Brewer spruce (Picea breweriana) into fringe habitat that burned 25 years ago. These relict trees are not fire adapted--having thin bark and rarely growing near other trees (shade intolerant) where it would likely be subjected to the spread of fire. Instead, the survival regime of the Brewer spruce includes growing along lonely, exposed ridgelines where other trees won't or can't. The Brewer spruce we saw on the Devils Backbone were not acting like most--their efforts for existence included growing in fire prone areas as well as having the propensity to pioneer burned habitat. This is the type of dynamic forest evolutionary individualism that has kept this species around for 60 million years. Hopefully DNA sculpted by deep time evolution will keep them around for many more years regardless of enhanced climatic change. I also hope they might share their survival regime story with struggling forest friends--like the western white pine--so that they too can adapt as our climate continues to shift.

Knobcone pine regeneration along the Devils' Backbone--the taller trees are Douglas-fir that did not burn in the fire.

Brewer spruce recruitment where fire swept through ~25 years ago. Notice that they are growing adjacent to the fire-adapted knobcone pines.

We will be back...

Sequoia National Park & Monument

2011-06-10T13:40:01Z

Sequoia National Monument - In search of giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron gigantium)

A slow return north from Mexico found me revisiting old stomping grounds in the southern Sierra Nevada. I first drove from Kernville to Springville to fully enjoy the Giant Sequoia National Monument. When I first ventured out on my own after college I lived near Springville and taught environmental education at SCICON. On weekends I would often attend church in the Freeman Creek grove, disappearing for hours on end in one of the largest stands of sequoias outside the national parks. I returned to this grove to re-explore 15 years after my first visits--I think the trees have gotten bigger.

While the grove is spectacular, the white firs are encroaching--fire needs to be reintroduced.

Sequoia National Park - In search of foxtail pine (Pinus balfouriana)

I was hoping that by early June I might be able to access Mineral King and get into some foxtail pine groves from roads end. However this winter was exceptionally wet and the spring continued the trend of cold with frequent precipitation. My best hope to enjoy the high country was to snowshoe from the Giant Forest area of Sequoia National Park so I set out from Wolverton to climb Alta Peak. The going was slow and the trail was non-existent, being buried under many feet of snow--immediately after leaving the parking lot. One benefit of hiking in these conditions was the lack of other visitors. The parking lot at Wolverton can accommodate at least 200 cars--mine was the only one in the lot when I left and when I returned--and I saw no one else on the walk. While I did not summit Alta Peak, I climbed a nearby unnamed peak (10,578') covered with majestic foxtails.

The peaks of the Mineral King area revealed themselves in the distance.

Alta Peak (to the far left) appears through the foxtail pines and clouds.

Woke up the last morning without a view and covered in snow--it was time to return to civilization.

The Kaweah River valley as seen from Panther Gap westward to the Central Valley--snowline dropped to 6000'.

©Michael Kauffmann

Parque Nacional - Sierra de San Pedro Martir

2011-06-07T14:31:21Z

This mountain range had been a place in my dreams for many years. I had heard about its rich conifer forest, that many of the conifers (and other plants of course) common within California reached their southern range extension here, and that a natural fire regime had been 'maintained' by mother nature. This was an intact a forest--in as natural a state--as we 21^stcentury explorers might hope to find. The mountains themselves are part of the Peninsular Ranges which I was quite familiar with, having lived in the San Gabriel's for many years.

I knew it would be similar in feel to my former home yet a world away in place. The fault block range--similar in formation to, say, the Sierra Nevada--allowed a nice gradual climb from the west where we enjoyed desert scenery which slowly transitioned to pinyon forest and ultimately a coniferous wonderland. On the plateau of the San Pedro we felt eerily at home as Olive-sided Flycatchers shouted "three-quick-beers" from the tops of sugar pine and white fir. Yet at the same time it was different. Millions of year of divergent evolution was at play here. Sugar pine cones were shorter, white fir needles were lighter green, and how did these birds find this place? This was an isolated sky island community with its own unique feel. These mountains offered a new twist and a better understanding of old friends. I can now say that I (anthropocentrically) comprehend what it is to be a white fir, sugar, lodgepole, or Jeffrey pine in the Sierra de San Pedro Martir. What an amazing National Park.

Fueling up on tacos in San Vicente before powering into the wilderness of Baja California Norte.

How could we miss this sign? The turn was not as obvious as we thought. Once we found it, the boy was happy.

In the lowlands before entering the park we scouted the hillsides for the Baja endemic gray thrasher (Toxostoma cinereum), and found several (Thanks for the tips Gary!). This one posed for the binoculars and the camera--accounting for my second lifer bird of the trip.

Entering the park - the rangers seemed surprised to see us as there had only been two other parties over the previous weekend.

The massive conifer-rich plateau of the San Pedro Martir which we would traverse to reach the eastern escarpment. The dramatic peak is Picacho del Diablo.

The edge of the eastern escarpment offered views to the desert and the distant Sea of Cortés--all framed by sugar pine (Pinus lambertiana).

Joshua Tree south--granitic outcrops were decorated with conifers rather than the pesky and often prickly angiosperms of the desert--here at a much higher elevation.

Mitch dwarfs one of the many massive Jeffrey pine.

A gnarled Jeffrey pine (Pinus jeffreyi) and more Picacho del Diablo.

This was the only area I was able to find the rare San Pedro Martir cypress (Cupressus montana). It grew in a ravine above a dry creek bed and associated with white fir, sugar pine, and Jeffrey pine. Several of these trees reached significant size (3 feet DBH) and were approximately 80 feet tall. Jeff Bisbee keyed me in to where to find these trees--thanks Jeff. See his report HERE.

Needles and cones of Cupressus montana (or Cupressus arizonica var. montana)

Another endemic, Arctostaphylos peninsularis.

On the return...

A side trip--on our return it was a 15 minute drive to see the southern range extension of bishop pine (Pinus muricata) near the coastal town of Ejido Erendira, south of San Vicente.

Salsipuedes Gringos

Mitch and I (along with our families) were worried about entering Mexico because of some of the news we had been hearing recently. With the assurance of several friends who had made recent trips we took the leap, crossed the border, and had an excellent journey. The people were friendly and accommodating and the roads were in good shape and safe to travel.

On our return we passed the town of Salsipuedes which translates to "get out while you can." While this thought was in the back of our minds on the way down, on our return I could only think--when can I get back?

©Michael Kauffmann

Tecate cypress | Coal Canyon Ecological Reserve

2011-05-30T14:08:33Z

On the way to Huntington Beach to pick up a friend, I made a stop to see the northern most stand of Tecate cypress (Cupressus forbesii) in North America. It is an interesting place to visit because it was almost lost to development, but in the courts it was decided that the last wildlife corridor from the Santa Ana Mountains to the Chino Hills was more important than a new neighborhood. The cypresses are protected now in the Coal Canyon Ecological Preserve which is part of Chino Hills State Park. While the area is well studied the trees are difficult for the public to access--at least I could find little about getting to them. There were many bikers in the area, some of whom said the trees were more easily accessed from a different route than I took.

The highway and underpass between Coal Canyon (left) and the Chino Hills State Park (right).

The hike I did involved parking on the old, now defunct, exit from highway 91 and walking through the 'underpass to nowhere' which is the wildlife corridor and not the access to a subdivision. The police marked my car for towing, so there must be better access--maybe from the Gypsum Canyon exit just to the west. Regardless, I then climbed 3500' over 5 miles to the summit of Sierra Peak and found the cypresses. It was a lot of work, but I got to see a new conifer and experience a rapidly disappearing California ecosystem.

Tecate cypress in the chaparral.

Resources:

Coal Canyon Ecological Preserve
Santa Ana Mountain Tecate Cypress Management Plan
Fire return interval and population dynamics of California's Tecate cypress

Baden Powell - San Gabriel Mountains

2011-05-29T15:03:54Z

On the way south I decided to revisit some of my favorite hikes from when I lived in the San Gabriel Mountains and taught outdoor education. The top on the list was the summit of Mount Baden Powell. Because the summit is 9,399 feet, it is within close proximity of the Pacific Ocean (on the rare smog-free day it is visible), and on the edge of the Mojave Desert there is astounding plant diversity meeting and mixing on the flanks of the mountain. Day one of my journey I climbed the peak and day two I dropped into the San Gabriel River valley within the Sheep Mountain Wilderness to enjoy the lower elevations of Baden Powell's mastiff. Both were amazing hikes--pictures follow.

The Ascent

The Pacific Crest Trail skirts the ridge and takes in the dramatic views on Baden Powell--the inverted layer of smog above the Los Angeles basin is also visible.

Limber pine (Pinus flexis) on the summit with the Devil's Backbone ridge in the distance.

This limber pine has been here a long time...

At the junction of the Pacific Crest Trail and the Summit Trail one of the most famous southern California trees has taken purchase for thousands of years--notice the mountain has slowly eroded out from beneath it.

Jeffrey pine (Pinus jeffreyi) also endure along the ridges of Baden Powell.

Lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta) on the summit.

The Descent

The target of this hike was to get to know bigcone Douglas-fir--a conifer endemic to the transverse ranges of southern California. I lived with this tree for over 7 years but did not appreciate its dynamic nature at the time. It is a true survivor and a beautiful tree.

Dropping into the San Gabriel River Canyon within the Sheep Mountain Wilderness.

Pseudotsuga macrocarpa framing Mount Baldy--notice the" hairy limbs" where epicormic shoots are a common because it is adapted to deal with wind and fire.

On of the many big trees growing in shaded canyons with canyon live oak, incense-cedar, and the occasional sugar pine.

That there is a big cone!

Baden Powell back-lit by a smog-enhanced sunset.

Conifers of the Baden Powell Region within the San Gabriel Mountains (I think this is quite an impressive list):

Sugar Pine
Lodgepole pine
Ponderosa pine
Jeffrey pine
Limber pine
White fir
Incense-cedar
Bigcone Douglas-fir
Sierra juniper (very rare on Devil's Backbone)
Coulter pine (lower elevations on edge of Mojave)
California juniper (lower elevations on edge of Mojave)
Singleleaf pinyon (lower elevations on edge of Mojave)